


Punished Pride

by ivanna



Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
Genre: Angst, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 05:40:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanna/pseuds/ivanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle for Troy the gods decide to punish Telamon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punished Pride

**Author's Note:**

> Polemos, the god of war, is inspired by Michael Biehn’s Chris Larabee.
> 
> Many thanks to Tarlan for beta reading.

Ares was sitting on his throne in his temple, his stern face set in a frown. His mother Hera had just left the throne room and Ares was ready to swear she enjoyed spoiling his pleasure more than solving her problems. He had a date with Aphrodite but his mother had come here to ask him to punish some insolent boy who had angered her. As if he had nothing better to do! But she had reminded him he owed her a favor and also she told him the punishment of that boy was his job anyway because that boy had started a war without his permission. As if a handful of mortals who attacked Hera’s priests were worthy of his attention, especially when Aphrodite was waiting for him. The thought of Aphrodite made Ares’ decision for him. He noticed as the dark clad figure crossed the hall outside the throne room and called, “Polemos, come here.”

The god from the court of Ares approached the throne. Ares looked closely at him and nodded, pleased. Polemos was one of the lesser gods of war and an important part of the company of war spirits which haunted the battlefield. He was the brother of Enyo, goddess of war, and the father of Alala, goddess of the war-cry, and he was Ares' right-hand man. Polemos was cruel and merciless, just the right choice for the fulfillment of Hera’s desires.

“I have work for you,” Ares said. “Consider it as a personal favor to me. Or rather to my mother.”

“What do you want me to do?” Polemos asked.

“Oh, a mere trifle. You’ll like it. I want you to punish a mortal. An arrogant boy who led an army of Trojans and reconquered Troy. He wants to be the next king of Troy and Hera doesn’t like that idea. Truth be told I think Hera is mad because Hercules slipped out of her hands again, and in impotent rage she wants to get revenge on the boy. You know my mother.”

“I think I can do it. What is his name?”

“Telamon. Polemos, I knew I could count on you.”

With these words Ares got up and hurried out of the throne room, throwing all thoughts concerning this issue out of his head. When he left, Polemos used his divine power and transported himself to his temple. In his own throne room he went to the magic mirror on the wall. Under his gaze the silver surface of the mirror had changed, and Polemos saw the stone city surrounded by a forest of tall ferns. An image came closer and Polemos made out the figure of the young man standing on the stone wall. A feral grin curled Polemos’ lips and he sent his divine order to bring Telamon here. 

-//-//-//-

Standing on the wall of Troy, Telamon was looked at the reconquered city. The joy of victory overwhelmed him but deep inside he felt anxiety. He was sure that Hera wouldn’t give up so easily and would send new troubles to them, but he was a warrior and he would protect his people. Telamon raised his chin proudly and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. He would prove to everyone, and especially to Deianeira that he was better than Hercules. 

A lightning bolt flashed in the sky followed by thunder and Telamon looked up. It wasn’t a natural thunderstorm, but Hera’s eyes didn’t sparkle in the rapidly deepening clouds. ‘Who is it?’ Telamon wondered, and in the next moment a whirlwind came out of nowhere, caught him and dragged him into its black void.

-//-//-//-

When consciousness returned to Telamon he tried not to show it. He lay still, analyzing his feelings and gathering information about his surroundings. The surface beneath his body was solid and cold, more likely it was stone tiles. Silence reigned around, and he strained his ears vainly, trying to hear the slightest noise. He was sure he wasn’t alone here as he felt a presence, but he didn’t know if that presence was a man, a god or a monster. Convinced that his body wasn’t hurt and he was able to move and fight, Telamon opened his eyes slowly. He was in a dimly lit room, with a faint glow emanating from the throne on a low dais. He blinked a few times, trying to focus his vision, and made out the outline of a human figure sitting on the throne. Telamon slowly got to his feet and stood still. His eyes never left the figure on the throne, his chin was proudly raised, and his left hand gripped the handle of the sword, which he was relieved to find still hanging at his side. 

“So, you’re Telamon, the warrior of Troy,” a soft voice said. “You are too proud and arrogant for a mere mortal.”

“I'm not looking for cowardly ways and not hiding behind the light as you,” Telamon said defiantly.

A quiet chuckle came from the throne. Shadows shifted obscuring the light and a dark figure got up from the throne. That was a god in a human form, Telamon realized, as no mortal could move so gracefully. The god came down from the dais and took a few steps toward Telamon. The glow coming from the throne no longer hid him, and Telamon saw him clearly for the first time. Telamon’s breath caught in his chest, his heartbeat became uneven and both his mind and soul were stunned by the sight before his eyes. He had never had seen such beauty as this before. Never had he imagined that beauty like this could exist, even on Olympus. The god was tall and lean, his black fitted clothing emphasized the strong smooth muscles of his torso and his long legs. Short strands of golden hair framed his marble-white face and gleamed in the dim light. Telamon stared at the god’s sculpted face eying his high cheekbones, straight nose, and full lips. He looked into the god’s eyes and at that moment his former life was gone. Those eyes were the color of the ferns growing in Telamon’s forest homeland, the depth of those eyes swallowed Telamon, stole all his thoughts and desires except one – to stay here forever. Telamon had never felt anything like that before, had never thought it was possible, but now he knew with absolute certainty that he would give his heart and soul to this god forever. 

The god’s full lips twisted into a smile; his long blond lashes hid his fern eyes, and Telamon shivered as he came back to reality. He was breathing hard, his back was covered with sweat, and his fingers on the handle of the sword turned white due the strength of his grip.

“So you aren’t looking?” the god asked, his voice was soft, almost caressing as he slowly moved towards Telamon. “Then you entered Troy through the main entrance?”

Telamon licked his dry lips. The god’s eyes watched as his tongue slid over his lower lip and Telamon barely remembered how to speak. 

“We didn't want to die,” he answered, and his voice sounded hoarser than ever. “Hera’s slaves had needed to do their job better. They should have destroyed that path.”

The god’s smile became mocking.

“Daring boy. Nobody has reined in your pride yet. Hera is too busy to deal with you personally so you are mine now, and I like to teach you a lesson.”

His soft caressing voice and the look of his fern eyes had stolen the last of Telamon's strength. He was ready to take anything from this god. ‘Who is this god?’ The thought pierced the fog in Telamon’s head, and the god spoke as if answering that question. 

“My name is Polemos.” 

A god of war from the court of Ares, Telamon remembered vaguely, who was living away from Olympus and the intrigues of Zeus’ and Hera’s courts. Telamon didn’t know why Polemos was involved in Hera’s affairs and didn’t care. 

“Get undressed,” Polemos ordered softly.

Telamon awkwardly began to take off his armor and clothing, fumbling with the buckles and straps. Finally a heap of leather and fabric was lying at his feet, and Telamon was completely naked before Polemos’ eyes. His thoughts were confused, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but Polemos looked at him with obvious admiration, and that look warmed Telamon’s heart. 

“You are beautiful,” Polemos said.

He raised his thin, transparent hand and ran his thumb over Telamon’s lips enjoying their softness, then he stepped back and looked at the mortal's body. Telamon was slightly shorter than he, and his body was slim and lithe. His shoulders were surprisingly broad, his waist was so narrow that Polemos could wrap his fingers around it, and the muscles of his chest, stomach and arms were as hard as steel. Polemos ran his long cold finger down Telamon’s chest enjoying his smooth hairless skin. The skin here remained pale, untouched by sun beneath the clothing. 

“That's good, Apollo hasn't caressed you,” Polemos muttered under his breath. 

His eyes moved down to narrow hips and long legs. After enjoying the view, he walked around Telamon and put his hands on Telamon’s firm roundish buttocks, squeezing them slightly. Telamon threw back his head and moaned. 

“Nobody has touched you down here,” Polemos didn’t ask, he knew. “You've kept your virginity, and now I'll take it. It'll be your punishment for your pride and disobedience to the gods. Go to the dais and kneel down.”

Telamon heard Polemos but the meaning of Polemos’ words hadn’t reached his mind as Polemos’ soft voice had mixed with the noise of blood in his ears. The push of thin pale hands gave him a clue what to do and he went to the dais where the throne was standing. He stepped onto the dais and lowered himself on his knees and elbows, opening his body to Polemos. He had never been with a man before. Often he had thought about it, sometimes playing with himself while thinking about it, but he had never let another man touch his flesh. It was as if he had been waiting for somebody. When he first met Hercules he thought Hercules was that ‘somebody’ but then he dismissed that idea. Now he knew with absolute certainty that Polemos was the one that he had been waiting for all his life. He heard the rustle of clothes and soft footsteps behind his back, then he felt the firm fingers on his hips. Those fingers touched him with such tenderness and Telamon let them to open his ass cheeks wider. Then a sharp, tearing pain pierced his body. Telamon cried out, unable to hold back the cry of pain and shock as tears welled his eyes and rolled down his smooth childish cheeks.

Polemos entered him in one powerful thrust and moved inside him without restraint, abusing the defenseless body. This slim, lithe body was incredibly sweet, and the pleasure overwhelmed Polemos. He didn’t hear as Telamon’s wild cry turned into hoarse groans, he didn’t see Telamon’s fragile fingers cling convulsively to the covering of the dais. With a triumphant cry Polemos poured his seed deep inside the young body. 

The pleasure was so intense that it took Polemos several minutes to recover, then he looked down. Telamon was lying on his side with his knees pulled to his chest; a mixture of blood and semen covered the inner side of his thighs, and tracks of tears crossed his deathly pale cheeks. He didn’t move, seemed like he wasn’t breathing, and only divine vision could see the sparkle of life in his body. Polemos waved his hand, and the next moment Telamon and all his belongings had disappeared out of the temple.

-//-//-//-

When Telamon regained consciousness he found himself lying in a forest glade. A soft breeze, birds singing, the smell of the soil and the forest were painfully familiar, and for a brief moment he thought he'd had a bad dream. He tried to move, and sharp pain shot through his body leaving no doubt that it was reality. Through the pain, he forced himself to open his eyes and sat up. He looked around and realized where he was; the city of Troy was just a mile away. A far more difficult task was examining his body, for it felt disgusting to him now, and touching himself caused nausea. Struggling to his feet, Telamon hobbled to the creek nearby and went into the water. He didn’t feel the coldness of water and stood here until his legs buckled. Then he got out the water and returned to the glade where he had awakened. He found his clothing and got dressed. He found his sword too, but it seemed too heavy for his weakened hands and for a few minutes Telamon stood leaning on it. When he straightened his head something touched it, and he held up his hand instinctively. His fingers grabbed a branch of the tree fern, and when his eyes followed his fingers, Telamon felt as if the ground had swayed under his feet. The green shade of the fern reminded him the green eyes of the god with whom he had fallen in love with, and who killed the life in him. He released the branch hastily as if it had burned his fingers. He looked at the direction of Troy and went in the opposite direction. 

Telamon didn’t know how many days had passed or where he was going. He tried to get as far away as possible from the fern forests and his former life, but even though the forests gave way to the plains and then to the mountains, he could still see the fern eyes before his own. He saw them in his every dream and finally he stopped sleeping, but it brought no relief. He saw those eyes sparkling in the night sky when he was sitting before the campfire, and he saw those eyes mixed with the sun's rays when he wandered aimlessly. He was afraid of people. He felt as if a mark of shame was burned on his forehead. In some distant village he bought a dark cloak with a hood that wrapped him from head to toe and covered his face. Finally, one night he realized that he couldn’t live like this anymore. He had to quit running and do something to stop his agony or just throw himself on his sword and put an end to his misery. The remains of his spirit didn’t let him give up without fighting, and for the first time he spent the night not thinking about the god whom he loved and who had abused him but pondered instead on how to find his tormentor. He remembered all the stories and legends about Polemos that he had ever been told, trying to find a clue to where Polemos’ lived, but they all pointed to different places. When the first glimmer of dawn lit the sky, Telamon looked up at the fading stars and realized what he should do. He had to find Hercules. Hercules knew everything about the capricious gods. 

Finding Hercules was easy. The demigod just performed another great feat and the whole country was talking about it. Telamon forced himself to ask locals about Hercules’ recent location and then he quickly found that village. When he arrived, Hercules was out somewhere. Telamon, not wanting to stay among people longer than necessary, left a message for him and camped behind the village. 

Hercules went to the camp in the middle of the night. The demigod was curious why a wanderer was looking for him. Before entering the campsite he stood for a while in the darkness watching the lone figure wrapped in a dark cloak, sitting near a campfire. Then Hercules stepped into the light and asked the mysterious wanderer, “I was told you are looking for me. Who are you?” 

The wanderer turned his head toward him, his thin hands flew up and his bony fingers threw back the hood of a cloak.

“Telamon?!” Hercules couldn’t hide the shock in his voice.

Only the huge blue eyes indicated that really was Telamon, but even they had changed – the fire of Telamon's spirit that made them sparkle brighter than sapphires was gone, and they were dark and lifeless. Those eyes were as deep as wells on the thin deathly pale face.

“Yes, it’s me,” Telamon said, and his voice was as lifeless as his appearance. “I need your help.”

“I'll help you any way I can, but tell me what happened,” Hercules said and sat on the ground beside Telamon. 

Telamon lowered his eyes and remained silent for a moment, then he looked straight into Hercules’ eyes and said, “I need to find Polemos.”

“Why do you need him?”

“If you know where he lives, tell me.”

“Yes, I know, but the mortal can’t get there. Polemos’ temple is among the steep rocks. The fiery abyss blocks the path to the temple, and a spell protects it. Crossing that abyss without Polemos’ permission means a sure death.” 

“Good. No need to throw myself on my sword.”

Telamon didn’t realize he had said that aloud but Hercules had heard him and asked anxiously, “What are you talking about? Why do you need to get to Polemos?”

“It’s none of your business.” 

“No, it is my business if you're asking my help.”

“Damn it, just tell me where he lives!” 

That outburst of temper was just a ghost of the former fire within Telamon. Hercules watched him silently, and then said, “No.”

His answer was as firm as the hand that gripped Telamon’s shoulder. Telamon pulled back abruptly, his face paling even more, although Hercules could swear that was impossible. Hercules withdrew his hand immediately. A terrible guess crossed his mind. 

“Telamon, what happened?” he asked softly. “Did he… did he do something to you?”

Telamon didn’t answer. He lowered his head, avoiding Hercules’ eyes, but his silence answered the question. Finally Telamon said in a cracked voice, “I can’t live like this anymore. He is always before my eyes. He haunts me wherever I go. I could accept what he had done to my body, but why did he enslave my soul? I want to stand face to face with him and demand he remove this curse. If I’ll die trying to get to him – that would be for the best.”

Hercules shook his head. By the gods. This boy was hopeless.

“Well, I’ll show you the way to Polemos’ temple,” Hercules gave up. “It’s not far away from here.” 

-//-//-//-

Hercules led Telamon to the cliffs surrounding Polemos’ temple, and there they parted. Telamon started to climb the cliff as Hercules walked away, and when Telamon couldn’t see him anymore he stopped and called to Hermes. The quick and cunning god appeared immediately, and Hercules asked him to bring him into Polemos’ temple. Hermes agreed, anticipating the new gossip he could tell on Olympus. At the next moment Hercules was standing in Polemos’ throne room. 

Polemos was sitting on the throne, and he sensed the presence of Hercules and snapped, “I didn’t call you, half-breed. Go away.”

“Not before I talk to you.”

Polemos was known for his short temper and black mood but Hercules wasn’t intimidated by him. Polemos felt it and ordered, “Then spit out what you had to say and go away.” 

Hercules was in no hurry. He went to the edge of the dais and stared up at the god sitting on the throne. Polemos was handsome like most of the gods, but his face looked drawn and haggard as if something was tormenting his immortal soul. Hercules wasn’t used to standing on ceremony with the gods and asked straight, “Why did you do that to that boy?”

Polemos’ famous short temper exploded with full force. He jumped to his feet and in the blink of an eye crossed the distance between him and Hercules. Hands seemingly made of marble grabbed the cloth covering Hercules’ chest and he pulled Hercules closer.

“What do you mean?” he hissed through clenched teeth. 

This outburst didn’t scare Hercules but puzzled him. He laid his hands on Polemos’ thin wrists and squeezed them. He wasn’t afraid of the god, for even as a half-breed, Hercules was larger and stronger, but Polemos obviously had forgotten about that.

“I mean Telamon. The boy, whom you made fall in love with you, raped and threw out.” 

“He deserved to be punished,” Polemos hissed, his eyes darted lightning more awesome than Zeus’ bolts, but Hercules had confronted his father many times, and he wasn’t going to back down before this god.

“You punished him. So why do you still haunt him? Why did you curse him?” 

Polemos gathered all his strength and freed himself from the grip of Hercules' hands. He turned away and ran a hand through his golden hair while Hercules stood still, waiting and watching. 

“I’m not the one who cursed him,” Polemos said. “I’m cursed too.”

Hercules was silent. Something broke inside Polemos and words flooded out of him.

“Every day, every moment, I’m thinking about him. I see him standing before me, so young and proud, with his eyes sparkling when he was looking at me. Thousands of people worship me but nobody ever worship me as much as he. His eyes are haunting, maddening me. No mortal can have such eyes - young and old at the same time, blue as the sky, deep as the sea, shining like the sun. Shining for me. Then I see him lying on the floor, broken and lifeless. I force myself not to approach the magic mirror. I’m afraid and at the same time I’m craving to see him. I remind myself that he is mortal, and his life is short."

“Shorter than you think,” Hercules said. “He has only hours left to live, maybe even minutes.”

Polemos stared at him with horror filled eyes.

“What are you talking about, half-breed?!”

“He is coming here.”

Polemos turned even paler, like death. 

“Who showed him the way?” he rasped.

“I did.”

“You?! You want him dead?”

Hercules was sure Polemos would kill him, if there was any way to kill an immortal. 

“I gave him a chance. He was ready to go looking for you with my help or without it.”

Polemos turned away, as if Hercules no longer existed for him. He went to the magic mirror, and the silver surface changed under his gaze. Polemos and Hercules saw a steep rock and the fragile figure climbing it. Only the familiar clothes and the brown hair indicated that was Telamon. He had left his cloak somewhere below, and his clothing and armor did nothing to hide his thinness. His bony fingers clung to the clefts on the surface of the rock, pushing his scrawny body up. Suddenly one his hand slipped, and Telamon hung over the abyss with only the fingers of his other hand keeping him from a fatal fall. After a few moments he managed to find support and lifted his body up onto a narrow ledge. He stretched out on it, panting and gathering his strength; his face was turned to the sky, and Polemos could see him plainly through the mirror. He could make out the bruises covering Telamon’s pale face and the blood oozing from a scratch on his forehead. Telamon opened his eyes and looked around. The ledge where he was lying was part of a narrow road skirting the rock. Telamon struggled to his feet and went down that road. After a few minutes he stood before the fiery abyss. A rope bridge was strung across it, and Telamon reached his hand out to grab the ropes of the bridge. 

A flame shot up from the depths, and the disembodied voice said, “No mortal can go further.” 

“My name is Telamon, I'm going to Polemos,” Telamon answered and stepped onto the bridge, ignoring the flame.

“Polemos did not give you permission,” the same voice said. 

Telamon didn’t pay it any attention. He stubbornly continued to walk across the bridge over the fiery abyss. The flames shot up even higher and burned the ropes of the bridge above the middle of the abyss. Telamon felt himself falling along with the bridge, the flame touching his body. 

“Nooo!” Polemos shouted. 

At the last moment he managed to use his divine power, and Telamon’s body moved out of the abyss, into Polemos’ temple, and collapsed on the floor. Polemos rushed to him and began to tear away the armor that had protected his body from severe burns.

“Bring Asclepius here,” Polemos ordered to Hercules, and waved his hand sending the demigod away. 

Polemos leaned over Telamon. His face and body were bruised and burned, and Polemos didn’t know how badly he was hurt. The main thing was Telamon still breathing. Polemos gently took him in his arms, brought him into the bedroom and laid him on the bed. The fragile body looked especially vulnerable lying on the white feathers, and Polemos carefully covered Telamon with a blanket. Telamon was still unconscious and Polemos sat down on the bed beside him. He reached his hand to Telamon’s forehead and gently pushed back the thick brown hair untouched by fire, then his hand slid under a blanket and squeezed Telamon’s limp fingers lightly. 

“I’ll never give you to Hades,” Polemos whispered. 

-//-//-//-

‘Could being in the underworld feel so pleasant?’ 

It was the first thought that crossed Telamon’s mind. Falling into the abyss could bring only death to him, but he felt so good now. Something warm and soft enveloped him but the peaceful feeling came through him from something else, something lying on his hand, soft and firm at the same time. Telamon frowned slightly trying to realize what that something was, and moved his hand. Sharp pain shot through his body. He couldn’t feel pain if he was dead, so he was alive, right? Then where he was? That something on his hand squeezed his fingers slightly as if encouraging him to open his eyes but Telamon wasn’t sure he was ready to do that. His body had awakened and was hurting now, his head spinning as if he was still falling into the abyss. But it wasn’t so, something on his hand held him and didn’t let him fall. 

“Telamon,” he heard a soft voice.

‘When your name is called, you have to answer’, Telamon remembered the old rule. He tried to open his eyes but failed.

“Telamon,” he heard again. 

His fingers were squeezed again. That something was a hand, he realized. He gathered all his strength, and this time he was able to lift his heavy eyelids. The dizziness increased, but through the white haze before his eyes he saw a golden glow. The glow approached, and then he saw the fern-colored eyes. He froze, forgetting to breathe. 

“Telamon,” Polemos said leaning over him. 

Numbness left Telamon, with all his remaining strength he pushed the hand holding him away and grabbed the blanket, pulling it to his chin. Polemos rose from the bed and stepped back. 

“Don’t move,” he said. 

Polemos' voice was emotionless, but never in his immortal life had he experienced more torment than watching this defenseless boy, who clung with a deadly grip to a blanket hiding his body, seeing his sapphire eyes insane with fear. Polemos disappeared silently in the depths of the room, giving way to Asclepius. The god of healing, who was mortal once, knew everything about medical art and saving human lives. He examined Telamon carefully and after telling him not to move and to rest, he went to the throne room. Polemos was sitting on the throne, his face grimmer than the wrath of Zeus. 

“His body will be healed,” Asclepius said, “But his spirit is broken.”

“His spirit is none of your concern,” Polemos snapped. 

Asclepius had seen enough in his lifetime and didn’t pay attention to Polemos’ mood. 

“Whatever you say. I'll send you a potion for him.”

Asclepius disappeared. Polemos remained on the throne and buried his face into his palms. He moved only when a messenger brought a jar from Asclepius. He got up, took the jar and a cup and headed to the bedroom. Telamon was sleeping. Polemos sat on the edge of the bed and gently traced Telamon’s lips with his thumb. Telamon smiled and leaned into his touch. The next moment he woke and pulled back in horror. Polemos took his hand back and brought a cup with a potion to Telamon’s lips. 

“Drink it,” he said. 

Telamon flashed a glare at him but obeyed. He had come here to meet Polemos and to talk with him, not to lie in bed like a broken wreck. Asclepius’ potion became effective immediately; Telamon’s eyelids dropped heavily and he fell asleep again. 

-//-//-//-

A few times during the night Polemos woke Telamon and gave him a potion, but when Telamon woke in the morning the bedroom was empty. Polemos was nowhere to be seen, and Telamon didn't feel his presence. He sat up in bed carefully. The room swayed before his eyes but then the dizziness was gone. He swung his legs off the bed and tried to stand. His body hurt but obeyed him. He found his clothing piled on the floor and got dressed, though he had to put his armor away – it was almost completely burned. Anyway he didn't have strengths to strap it on, but he clipped his sword to his belt. He headed to the throne room, swaying with pain and weakness. The throne was still standing on a dais radiating a pale light, but its owner wasn't there. 'That's good, I can gather my thoughts.' Telamon thought. The next moment he felt movement behind. Without turning he knew that it was Polemos. Telamon slowly pulled out his sword and turned to face him. Proudly holding up his chin and trying to keep his voice calm and firm, he said, "I came here to demand you remove the curse."

Polemos smiled. This smile was infinitely sad, not the feral curling of lips that Telamon had seen before. 

"You can't kill me with a sword," Polemos said softly.

He took a few steps, narrowing the distance between them. Telamon tried not to look at him, deliberately staring at the far wall of the room. He was afraid to look into those fern-colored eyes, afraid to see that golden hair and that beautiful face, afraid to be hypnotized with smooth movements of that perfect body. That suited Polemos as his eyes feasted freely on Telamon's beauty. 

"I can't," Telamon agreed, "But I can challenge you and win." 

"Even if you do that, you wouldn't change anything," Polemos said sadly. "I can't remove the curse because I didn't curse you. This is a fate, Telamon. We were destined to fall in love. We can't live without each other. I can't live forever without you." 

Telamon forgot to breathe. He looked into Polemos' eyes and saw the truth in their depths. It was the truth. Polemos held out his hand, took the sword from Telamon's weakened fingers and threw it on the floor. 

"I'll not fight you, because I've already lost."

"But you… you did that to me," Telamon stammered. 

"I know."

And he would know it his whole life, for the whole of eternity, but he wouldn't allow it to separate them. He lowered his head slightly and touched Telamon's lips with his own. Telamon stilled under his touch, but Polemos was glad that he didn't pull away this time; it was a small victory. Polemos' lips slid easily over the soft silk of Telamon's lips, then he increased the pressure, deepening the kiss, his thin white hand dug into Telamon's brown hair, pulling his head closer. Telamon gave up, his lips parted, his hands lay on Polemos' broad shoulders covered with black cloth, and he melted into the kiss. His head was spinning, his blood roaring in his ears, he was falling into the abyss again and he clung to these shoulders to stop his fall. 

Finally Polemos ended the kiss and whispered, "Let me show you how it should be."

Telamon nodded. He didn't have any pride left, he didn't have anything left anymore, and if Polemos deceived him a second time, he would just stop clinging to life and dissolve into eternity. Polemos led him into the bedroom, stripped off his clothes and laid him onto the bed. Then Polemos quickly undressed himself, leaned over him and kissed him again. Telamon's mouth was sweeter than any nectar and Polemos couldn't get enough. He forced himself to leave that delicious mouth and slid down Telamon's body, enjoying his long slender neck, the smooth skin of his chest, his flat stomach. Finally he reached his goal and took the evidence of Telamon's desire into his mouth. 

A hoarse cry escaped Telamon's mouth, his hands clutched at the sheets, his body was in fire. He tried to restrain himself and prolong this sweetest torment but failed, and Polemos greedily took what he had given to him. Telamon came to senses when he felt Polemos' fingers stroke him between his ass cheeks. He shivered, but Polemos started to kiss him again, and he relaxed. 

"Trust me."

Telamon didn't know if Polemos said in his voice or with his body, but he obeyed. He began to roll over, but Polemos' hands stopped him and put him on his back again.

"No, we have to see each other's eyes," Polemos said, and Telamon nodded. 

Polemos prepared him thoroughly, but the penetration brought back pain and memories. Polemos stilled, then leaned over and started to kiss and caress him. Gradually the pain receded, memories smoothed out, and the past was replaced by the present. Shyly at first, Telamon answered Polemos, and soon their passion became unrestrained and wild. They reached ecstasy together. Panting, Polemos lowered himself on Telamon's chest and they fell asleep still holding each other in arms. 

-//-//-//-

When Telamon woke, the first thing he saw was the fern eyes gazing at him with adoration.

"What now?" he asked.

Polemos understood what he had in his mind.

"My father is Phorcys, a god of the hidden dangers of the deep and a son of Pontus and Gaia. My power is different to the power of the Olympian gods. I can grant you eternal youth and immortality – but only as long as I live. If anything happens to me…"

"I don't want to live without you," Telamon interrupted him. 

The thought of life without Polemos terrified him and he chased it away. Polemos nodded. 

"Wait a moment," Polemos said and got up.

He went into the depths of the bedroom and soon returned holding a knife with a bone handle and a wide blade. 

"Come here."

Telamon got up and stood before him. They looked into each other's eyes, then Polemos embraced Telamon with his free hand, pressing their bodies together. He raised his right hand and stabbed them. The blade of the knife scratched his chest and pierced Telamon. Blood flowed from the wound under Telamon's left nipple. Telamon's body weakened, he started to fall but Polemos held him tight with his both hands now. Polemos found Telamon's mouth and pressed his lips to him inhaling his immortal soul. 

He took Telamon into his arms, laid him on the bed and sat beside him waiting. The minutes passed, and finally the wound in Telamon's chest started to heal. Soon only a scar remained. Telamon's eyelids stirred, and he opened his eyes and looked at Polemos. The shining of these bright-blue eyes caught Polemos' breath. He leaned over and kissed Telamon's plump lips, then asked, "How are you feeling?"

Telamon tried to analyze his feelings.

"Good," he admitted finally. "My injuries don't hurt anymore." 

"That's good," Polemos smiled. "I need you with renewed strength." 

The corner of Telamon lips lifted in a cocky smile. "Let's see who has more strength. How much are you older than me?"

"Insolent boy," Polemos muttered. 

The happy laughter answered him, and Telamon's slim hand pulled him into bed. 

END


End file.
